


incarnation

by discopolice



Category: Fate/Zero
Genre: M/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 03:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18044549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discopolice/pseuds/discopolice
Summary: "like smelling saffron where there is none"





	incarnation

define "incarnation"  
tapping the pen to the paper, ra-tatata, you thought  
you knew, back then, it all felt so simple in the  
thick-bound books where your nose found itself so often  
but what tome could have prepared you for this?  
for "him" to sear through you like a brand  
there, like a fire in winter, like a stake to the chest  
finding oneself in another - "incarnation"

you thought you knew, but you were so caught up in the  
details, the words and not the sentences, the circuits and  
not the blood, the man and not the principles  
how easy it was to hide behind 'necessity' when you never  
knew what was 'necessary' in the first place!  
tell yourself it's 'necessary,' then kick yourself after  
as "his" eyes burrow under your skin, bore through your soul  
the curling of toes, the flow of mana - "incarnation"

like smelling saffron where there is none  
or when the emptiness of the bed becomes stifling  
feeling the clack-bang of the tile on your knees as  
you dry heave into the mackenzies' bathtub  
or the cum-stain on the sheets that you can't bring  
yourself to wash, so they sit in a sad heap in the  
hamper, and you think of taking them back with you  
but somewhere along the way they get lost  
reminders that fade - "incarnation"

and maybe in twenty years, or a hundred, you'll lose the details  
you'll forget his fingerprints on your skin, you'll  
forget the sounds of his breath, how they crowded your  
thoughts, the space on his shoulders where your hands liked to rest;  
but the clouds have parted into a bitter-warm spring,  
the sunlight brands its harsh energy into tired eyes,  
the war is over, and you're sleeping next to a ghost


End file.
